


A Little Help

by misha_anon



Series: A Rustle of Wings [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Wing Kink, Wing Maintenance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean tries to help Castiel with wing maintenance, it always seems to turn into something else.  Usually something like rolling around on the floor groping one another like teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help

"Ow! Careful!"

Castiel's voice is rougher than usual and he shakes one wing impatiently to rid himself of the hand that's squeezing too hard. He does this for Dean as much as for himself because he knows Dean finds it equally enjoyable, though he can't really understand why. It's not something he could share with just any human, of course; he couldn't trust most of them not to yank his feathers obnoxiously. Turning his back and baring his wings makes him vulnerable and more than a little anxious.

"Said I was sorry."

Dean said nothing of the sort, but Castiel lets it pass without comment. He's sitting in the middle of the floor and Dean is kneeling behind him. They tried this once, the first time, on a bed at Bobby's house and that was a complete disaster. When he feels fingers sliding through his feathers again, more gently this time, Castiel starts to relax. As he does, his wings unfold little by little. Dean gets a little over excited sometimes and Cas figures it's to be expected when you don't have wings of your own.

"What's it feel like, Cas?"

It's the same question Dean asks every time and it's the same question Castiel can't answer this time, either. How could he possibly explain to someone who is perfectly contained inside a single human body? He wants to answer, he just doesn't know how. So, he goes for practical. It comes with a bonus side of annoyed.

"It feels like you're pulling my feathers. _Again_."

Dean laughs and relaxes his too-tight grip on the longest feathers. The only time Dean laughs like that is when they're alone, like now, crowded closer together than necessary and he's pleasantly buzzed from a couple of beers. Castiel smiles at the sound, lets his head fall forward to stretch out his neck. Wings are heavy to carry around, especially if you have to hide them tucked uncomfortably close to your body most of the time.

When Dean settles down past his boyish excitement and is able to sustain a gentle touch, Castiel breathes a sigh of relief. This always goes in the same pattern, with Dean working his way from the tip of the left to the tip of the right wing. Dean strokes and preens Castiel's feathers more than Cas _ever_ has, checks for any pushed the wrong way or ready to be removed. After early misadventures with the pulling of feathers that weren't ready to come out, Dean has learned what to look for and he almost never mistakes one kind of feather for the other.

Castiel lets his wings unfurl further, though he still tries to keep them close enough to keep Dean close to his body while he works. Neither man speaks, but the silence is comfortable and more than a little charged. It only takes a few minutes before Cas feels the familiar surge of warmth in the center of his chest. He quivers and swallows a groan when Dean plucks away a stray feather and it tickles down his bare back. Stripping out of his coats and shirts isn't strictly necessary for this, but Dean likes that, too.

Dean lays one steadying hand on Cas' hip, big and warm and comfortable. The cursory exam of wing fitness out of the way, he moves in closer. Castiel can feel Dean's breath rustling feathers and his wings stretch and flare of their own accord. When Dean's fingers curl again, half-stroking, half-tugging, it's different and Castiel finds it harder to breathe as his face flushes with heat.

As much as he enjoys and appreciates Dean's help with wing maintenance, this is the touch he craves. Dean's hand slides around to his stomach, palm damp with sweat, pulling him back. They're closer now and Castiel can feel Dean's bare stomach pressing as he continues tugging and stroking feathers, sometimes one at a time, sometimes by the handful.

It never takes long before Castiel is a whimpering mess. His body arches and it's all he can do to remember not to knock Dean over with the violent shudders that shake his wings, each tug shooting like electricity straight to his cock, now hard and straining. When Dean's hand strays further down his belly and he starts growling in that rich, whisky smooth voice, though, all bets are off.

"This what you want, Cas? This what you like?"

Dean punctuates his words with feather yanks that under any other circumstances would definitely be obnoxious. A hoarse moan and a twist of his body is all Castiel is able to answer. It's only halfway accidental when a twitch of his left wing knocks Dean back and off balance. Castiel turns swiftly and pounces, pushing his lover to the floor.

This is better, more tactile, more skin-touching-burning-hot-skin and he knows Dean prefers it this way. Well, not _exactly_ this way, but certain sacrifices must be made if you're going to pull someone's feathers like that. Castiel's body is smaller, more narrow atop Dean's as they fit together like pieces of a puzzle, with Dean grabbing him by the hips to move him where he wants him. Castiel hears his own voice come out as a trembling whisper when he answers matter-of-factly.

"You _know_ I like that, Dean."

Dean gives a strangled laugh and slides his hands up over the bare skin of Castiel's hips and the small of his back. Cas can see that this is not the time to tease and play, a hunch proven correct when Dean's fingers suddenly twist at the base of two handfuls of feathers, pulling until his body arches down. One day they'll learn to strip completely before they start this supposedly innocent wing checking ritual. Today isn't that day.

Castiel is fleetingly annoyed by all the fabric between their bodies, but it doesn't seem to deter Dean. They rut together, Castiel moaning and growling while Dean whispers filth that should make him blush but really only makes him squirm more. It's inelegant, the way they end up rolling around on the floor like this half the time. Castiel can use his wings for balance, when he remembers, keep them from wriggling into anything. He rarely remembers.

Dean's fingers card and slide through his feathers and he always seems to know when to pull and how hard to send Cas' hips jerking into his. Cas can feel the hardness of Dean's cock pressed alongside his, the strong muscles in Dean's stomach twitching as he jerks up to meet him. Dean has a no kissing rule. They break that half the time, too, but not yet. For the moment, Castiel has to content himself with biting at Dean's neck and sucking his earlobe while their sweaty chests slide together and Dean pulls and strokes his feathers in ways that make his wings jerk and quiver and his insides turn to jelly.

As their muscles tense and roll together, they're both reduced to panting and whimpering. Finally, Dean turns his head, shoves his hips up hard with the grunt Castiel knows means he's getting close. This is the only time they kiss, when Dean wants to, when Dean needs it. Castiel lets Dean capture his lips, fuck his mouth with that talented tongue. It's hard to kiss when you're gasping for breath, but they manage. Cas grinds down, trapping their cocks between their bodies, still with too much fabric between.

Dean pulls harder, sliding his fingers through to get grip somewhere else and pull again. Castiel is panting, wings flaring wider and he occasionally feels the smaller, more fragile feathers tear out.

"That _hurts_."

"You _love_ it."

A hiss and an answering moan, lips to lips. Cas can't argue; his cock is throbbing, underwear wet with precome and he feels just about one obnoxious feather yank from the edge. When that yank comes, he cries out hoarsely, rutting his hips against Dean's, bones grinding against bones hard enough to leave bruises and his cock jerks, sticky hot come making a mess against his skin.

His wings jerk, too, something Dean has commented on. It's instinctive, his wings scrabbling for balance while he feels as though he's falling off a cliff. He kisses Dean again, too hard with a collision of teeth and wrecked whimpers for Dean to swallow. The catch in Dean's breath and the long string of whisper-growled curses against his lips tells Castiel that Dean is riding the edge, too.

Castiel braces himself and Dean doesn't disappoint, fingers twisting painfully in feathers, pulling so hard it clouds Cas' vision. Dean is panting and groaning, hips shoving up erratically and hard enough to move Cas' body like he weighs nothing. When Dean's movement subsides to twitches of muscle and his chest heaving in pursuit of oxygen, he turns his face away. Castiel hates the no kissing rule because it's sort of his favorite thing to do aside from having his feathers pulled. Not that he'd admit to either of those.

He closes his eyes, settles for sucking sweat off Dean's neck in the silence that wraps around their bodies. He feels the fingers that have been twisted so tight in his feathers start to slowly release. Dean's hands shake as he starts to smooth down the feathers he's pushed all wrong and mumbles an unnecessary apology for being too rough. Cas is always loath to tuck his wings away after the fact because it means Dean can't touch them anymore.

"Dean.."

Dean grumbles, takes one last moment to brush away feathers he accidentally pulled and check over the skin beneath for damage. Castiel allows it because he appreciates that this is one of those guy things that lets Dean show he cares without making a big show of it. After a long moment's exploration, Dean heaves a sigh that moves Cas' body again and reluctantly pulls his fingers away.

"Okay, Cas, go ahead."

His voice is still rough with sex, but there's a tender note there that's like music to Cas' ears. Castiel sighs, too, as he shakes his wings out one last time. He feels pleasantly loose as he tucks them in closer and tighter, returning himself to this single human body. Dean pushes Castiel off the top of him once his wings are safely tucked away. He turns his head to meet Cas' eyes and smiles.

"Wanna come take a shower with me?"

It's another question that stumps Castiel every time.

"Why would I want to take a shower?"  



End file.
